Circus Life
by wunderlichkind
Summary: very AU. Katniss is a dancer on the high rope and this is her first ever engagement after circus school. Who would have thought, it would be this exciting? One-Shot.


_This is my first ever English story, I'm not a native, so reviews concerning grammar and language are very welcome. Also, I have to admit that this is my first ever lemon, too. Many firsts for me - let me know what you think :)_

I was five years old, when I realized, I wanted to be an artiste. I used to balance on our backyard-fence, on the handrail of the stairs that lead to my favorite playground and on every other even remotely practical object or formation.

When I turned 16, none of the above were within my reach anymore. I'd switched foster homes three times and even when the times weren't exactly happy and bright, I would always find ways to feed my body's hunger for heights and instability. I even started cheerleading in high school. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't exactly one of the popular kids. The cheerleaders let me tag along though, because I was pretty good and I never tried to take part in their high school fame.

After graduation, I was more than happy to be able to take matters in my own hands now. I worked very hard for a scholarship at the "École Nationale de Cirque" in Montréal and that's how I came to Canada. For the first time in a very long time, I was content with what I was doing, with where I was going. For the first time in my life, I actually made friends. And most importantly, I finally got to really train on the high rope and that I would do for hours every day until my feet hurt and my nerves were singing from the effort.

And now, here I am, my very first engagement in a circus with my own program. I still have difficulty believing it. The season only just started – in Europe most circuses only tour in the summer months and it is early March, the cool winter breeze still lingering in the Swiss air. Switzerland. A few years ago, I would have called anyone to tell me I was going to be working in Switzerland a freak.

All of this crosses my mind through a comfortable light dizziness, the result of a few beers I've had. I stroll a few steps behind the others as we are on our way back to the impromptu trailer park on an open field at the outskirts of the village we're staying at for the week. I can smell the grass beneath my feet and a first hint of the sawdust from the circus tent. When I reach the first trailers most of the others are already waving good night. Someone still leans on the trailer nearest to me, only when I'm two steps closer I recognize him by his light curls. He's the ringmaster's son. His father does not only lead the circus, his grandfather has started it and passed it on to his son and one day, he will pass it on to this boy, standing right before me and staring at me with an unreadable expression. I give him an awkward look and with an incoherent mumble start out towards my own trailer but he pushes himself off the side of the trailer and walks beside me. I believe that he's younger than me, though probably not by much. I haven't talked to him much by now, he doesn't seem like much of a talker and I know I am not either. He doesn't even talk now while we walk together and I am not sure what to think of it. We have nearly reached my trailer when he finally breaks the silence.

"I like your name. Katniss.", he says with only the slightest hint of an accent.

I shrug, uncomfortably. What a weird thing to say. "Thank you?", I answer and it comes out as more of a question than an answer. I stop in front of my trailer and so does he. His head tilted to the side he looks at me and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. He comes closer and lifts his hand to play with a curl of my hair that has escaped the braid.

"I've watched you train, Katniss." Each time he says my name, it sounds like he's trying out the word on his tongue, tasting it carefully. I frown. I remember that I've seen him several times when I finished my training sessions. I'd thought, he was coming for his own training, he and a guy from Poland, Juri, are doing a hand-on-hand number.

"You know, I used to think high rope is pretty boring.", he admits with half a grin on his face. "What changed your mind?", I hear myself ask, before I can stop it.

His grin spreads. "I've never seen someone so consumed in their work as you are. You have this distant look in your eyes and I'm sure you haven't seen me even once while you were still training. When you start, I can practically watch how every muscle in your body tenses… and then you just…" He shrugs and for a moment, I can see the quiet, rather shy guy shine through, that I believe him to be. "You let loose. I don't think I've ever seen you as relaxed, if that's the right word, as you are on the high wire."

I stare at my feet. This feels way too intimate. While I'm trying to think of something to say, I shift my weight from foot to foot.

I must have been silent for too long already and I fully expect him to just walk away by now – the thought unexpectedly doesn't really please me – when I feel his rough fingers on my chin. He lifts it until I look him right in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Katniss.", he says calmly.

I shrug, the motion causing his hand to sink from my face. "It's okay, I guess."

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." He motions his head towards the steps that lead to my trailer door and as I nod, he sits down with a sigh. "It's the alcohol.", he adds. "Every time I have a few beers, I suddenly find the courage to say everything on my mind. I know I shouldn't."

I sit beside him then. The steps are narrow and we're so close, I can feel his body heat and smell his scent – of circus and cinnamon.

"It's really okay. I think I'm just not used to being this closely watched."

"This is kind of weird.", he answers, "I know, I'm really sorry. I just couldn't help myself. Believe me when I say, I always planned on talking to you but then I would tell myself you didn't have time after your training or Juri was arriving shortly or you would find me creepy… Well, this is not really less creepy. I'm just gonna stop talking now." By now, he's staring at his hands that he nervously folds and unfolds in his lap. I can't stop myself – I let out a low laugh. "You're really not very good at this. Whatever this is."

He looks up at me through his thick lashes with some kind of pained grin and the laughter rises in my chest like bubbles. I let go of the awkwardness and laugh, embrace the buzz from alcohol and exhaustion. When I open my eyes, I find his gaze fixed on my face, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, I'm aware of every muscle, every fiber of nerve in my body. Adrenaline jolts through me before my conscious catches up with what's happening.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful.", he breathes and then everything happens in an instant, too fast for my brain to process. The next thing I know is that he's kissing me forcefully, his scent intensified by his proximity and my heightened senses, his hands in my hair, my eyes open in shock, my body in turmoil. I'm unable to cope with the turn of events, so I let my body lead, as I do on the high rope and I'm all sensation. In a small part of my brain, I ask myself what I'm doing, but have to admit that I'm more than enjoying this. The muscles on his arms feel firm under my hands, his grip intensifies when he senses me melting into him.

I don't have much experience when it comes to men but there have been a few minor flings in Montréal and my body knows full well what it wants now that this man is pressed up to it. I open my mouth and let my tongue search his. He lets out a low groan that brings goosebumps to my skin. When we break apart for air, I get up and unlock the door to my trailer. He seems unsure of himself, he's breathing heavily and only meets my gaze when I open the trailer door. I keep our gazes locked while I walk backwards through the door, slowly unzipping my fleece jacket and pull the fabric from my shoulders. He takes two quick leaps up the steps and rips the jacket fully from me before he presses me up against the inside of the closed again door. I can feel him on every inch of my body now and I'm suddenly hot. His hands hold mine against the cool surface of the door and his mouth is on mine again now, his tongue meeting mine hungrily. When he drops my hands I bury them in his golden locks, forcing him even closer. His hands are on my body now, he's caressing my sides, my stomach, my thighs. I arch into him until he finally puts them where I want it. At first he's very gentle but when I moan into his mouth, he gets bolder, kneading my breasts through shirt and bra. Again I'm the one to break away first, though this time his eyes follow me tightly when I lift the shirt over my head, unbutton and drop my pants and stroll over to the bed. I really don't know where this boldness comes from but I decide to just roll with it because this is way too much fun to stop it now and his look makes the wetness pool between my legs that I clench together in search of some relieving friction.

I let myself fall backwards on my bed, watching him approach me. His movements are very obviously the ones of an artiste, graceful and powerful at the same time and for a second I feel like he's a predator and I'm his prey. When he reaches the bed, he lifts his own sweater and shirt over his head, his eyes still fixed on mine, his pupils huge and black. His voice is rough and low when he speaks.

"You don't know how often I imagined this."

I get on my knees and kiss him, pulling him on the bed and beneath me, then let my mouth venture from his, along his neck that he willingly exposes to me, his hands on my hips. My kisses wander deeper, form a trail over his toned body, venturing from it only to kiss both of his nipples. My hands are ahead of my mouth and when I open the button of his pants I lightly graze his erection. His breathing hitches and I grin against his hipbone, then move my fingers into his boxers, closing them around him and taking him out. I take a moment to appreciate the view before I lightly run my thumb over the tip and start to slowly stroke him. His eyes are closed and his hands back in my hair. I lower my head and carefully take him in my mouth. He lets out a strangled gasp when I suck a little.

"God, Katniss…"

I don't think I've ever been this turned on. His voice alone does impossible things to me and I devote myself to the task of blowing him, running my tongue over the tip every now and then, sucking rhythmically, my right hand taking to his balls. Eventually he flips us over, his arms shaking ever so slightly when he holds himself up over me.

"I don't think I can take much more.", he mutters between kisses. When he sucks my pulse point and I feel his fingers beneath my panties at the same moment, applying just the right amount of pressure to my clit I nearly convulse, even though he's barely touched me.

"Take me, Peeta. Please.", I beg breathlessly and something in his look makes me realize that this is the first time I said his name out loud. He gets up and produces a condom from the pocket of his trousers before he disposes of both them and his boxers. I unhook my bra and slip out of my panties and for the first time since we started this I feel a moment of insecurity. I take the condom out of his hand and while I rip it open I can feel his hands tremble on my body. This is when I know, I don't have to be insecure.

I roll the condom on him and guide him to my entrance. He moves painfully slow and I bring my legs up and cross them at the small of his back forcing him deep inside me. For an instant we keep this position, his head buried on my shoulder, my heart beating frantically in my chest. He starts moving then, picks up a steady pace and I am lost to the pressure building inside me, his hands and lips on me, the sound of his ragged breathing. I'm only vaguely aware of the sounds that I make but I don't care, I'm all sensation and rhythm. He increases his pace ever so slightly and I know, he's just as close as I am and I try and meet his thrusts, to get even closer to this perfect body. When he comes, he lets out the most erotic sound I've ever heard and I shatter. For a moment, I only see stars and I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling but not seeing, waiting for the waves to phase out. When I'm back in this world, I listen to our breathing. It's in perfect sync. Eventually I reach out for the blanket and cover both of us up. I rest my head on his shoulder and my hand on this stomach and he pulls me into a close embrace.

"You're a strange guy, Peeta Mellark.", I mumble before drifting off, "But I think, I like you." He chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "I like you too, Katniss. Very much."


End file.
